


Homogeneous

by axiumin



Series: Vocabulary Drabbles [3]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drabble, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17586014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axiumin/pseuds/axiumin
Summary: homogeneous – adj. – of the same or similar kind





	Homogeneous

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of drabble requests based on vocabulary words. 
> 
> I don't know what drabbles are, apparently, so they're mainly just little ficlets rather than true drabbles. 
> 
> Cross-posted from tumblr. Come say hi @axiumin!

Sweet whispers of warmth and love and _color_ teased at the edge of your slowly waking mind, and for a moment, you stubbornly kept your eyes closed, chasing after the quickly-fading impressions. You’d think by now you would have gotten used to a world cast in shades of grey, but you still couldn’t hold back the groan when your eyes finally fluttered open only to find that your room was just as monochromatic as it ever was.

You sighed and sat up in bed, balefully glaring the sameness of it all. The grey blankets, the grey walls, the grey clock beside your bed with grey numbers that read—

8:30am. _Shit_.

You scrambled out of bed and set about trying to break your personal record for quickest morning routine. In less than an hour, you had to be across town to meet your friend for breakfast, and you’d promised her you’d be on time after you showed up late the last several times you made plans.

Maybe it was a sign you should stop making morning plans, but you supposed the point was moot.

After taking the fastest shower of your life, you rushed through the rest of your routine and skidded to a stop in front of your closet. You reached in and and grabbed the first shirt you saw (grey) and the pair of jeans you’d draped over your desk chair (also grey) and shoved your feet into the nearest pair of (grey) shoes before high-tailing it for the door.

The city passed by in a blur as you sped down the sidewalk, cursing yourself for never getting around to getting the tire on your bike fixed. You made a mental note to put that at the top of your to-do list for the weekend. As it were, you were sure you were quite the sight, half-jogging down the street, hair flying askew and sweat beading on your brow. Fellow pedestrians cast you looks ranging from half-interested to downright concerned as they stepped out of your way lest they get bulldozed. And honestly, you kind of counted on your disheveled appearance and obvious haste to encourage others to get out of your way.

As such, you didn’t really expect to turn the corner and run headfirst into some poor guy’s chest.

The man let out a quiet “oomph” at the impact, and the two of you stumbled a few steps before he found his footing and grabbed your arms in a steadying hold. As soon as his hands wrapped your arms, you were overcome with a wave of vertigo. When you finally blinked away the starbursts that had obscured your vision, you realized you were staring right at a brilliant splash of _color_.

(It was orange, you'd later come to realize. The color was _orange_ , and it instantly became your favorite.)

“Are you okay?” the color spoke, sounding just as dazed and breathless as you felt.

Slowly, you realized that the color belonged to the sweater the man was wearing. The man who you had run headfirst into while you were speeding down the street. The street you were speeding down in order to meet your friend for breakfast. It was a meeting you were most certainly late for at this point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you finally looked up at the man’s face.

He was beautiful. His eyes (brown) gazed down at you with a look of wonder, and his cheeks flushed (pink) as he began to smile. It was then you realized that he was waiting for a response.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, buoyed by the giddy warmth that washed over you. “And I’m sorry I ran into you, but I don’t think I’m really that sorry after all.”

The man chuckled. “I’m Yixing, and you know what? I’m not sorry either.”

Yixing seemed to realize that he was still holding onto your arms, and he cleared his throat, trailing one of his hands down your arm until his fingers tangled with yours.

“I don’t mean to be too forward,” he started, sending you a bashful look from beneath his lashes, “but I’ve waited so long to find you. I’d like to get to know you, if that’s okay.”

You inhaled a slightly shaky breath and gently squeezed his fingers, unable to fight off a brilliant smile. “That would be perfect.”

You were definitely late to breakfast that day. But when you told your friend about blue ponds and red bricks and lush green grass and how it all started with the color _orange_ , you knew she didn’t mind.


End file.
